Glimpse Into Madness
by Joker and the Thief
Summary: "Sullied, tainted," he spat bitterly, "no better than the whores I butchered." When one's sanity has shattered, who is left to pick up the shards? Warning: vulgarity, violence, yaoi, yaoi pairings, rape, Rated M for obvious reasons! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: From the moment I watched the first episode of Black Butler I became engrossed with it. Quite a different taste than my usual choice for anime, but the boy love is something of a guilty pleasure for me, and I fell in love with this anime. So I present to you what has been stuck in my head after weeks of in depth Black Butler viewing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights or the characters of Black Butler, I am only fanbasing these characters to satisfy my growing admiration for the anime/manga.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 1**

Usual sounds in a large office building generally included the bustling of everyday employees, the buzzing of a paper shredder, the manic clicking of expensive oxfords and heels against the tile floor as destinations needed to be met on a precise time, the choking of a coffee pot filling for the umpteenth round in the background. All these sounds through time had simply drifted into nothing more than a white noise in the distance; spending more time clocked in than enjoying normal life would surely do that to a grim reaper.

But one could not argue the harmony that had befallen the London Grim Reaper Association building...

'_Screeeeheheheheheheheeeeccchhhhzzz_.'

...unless that one were to agonizingly drag a chainsaw against the tile floors of the lobby, creating a massive echo that reverberated off the large amounts of vast space and causing a chain effect of groans and hisses.

"Oi, Sutcliff, you mind picking that thing up when you walk by? It's bleedin me ears, mate!"

"Sod off, Marley." Grell growled as he drug his feet through the lobby, slightly hunched from exhaustion yet waved his co-worker off with a flick of his scarlet red hair. "I've had one hell of a day and I simply won't hear of it from you." He attempted to pout but all he could muster was a slight frown and half-lidded eyes.

It had been one of the _longest_, _most grueling _missions of Grells life! An outbreak of Consumption had broken out over the northern country side of London, rendering many ill and the mortality rate only climbing. Which meant more work and guaranteed overtime. Much overtime.

_'Two. Days. Of. Overtime.' _Even the thought racked Grells frame with spasms of muscle pain and he groaned thinking back to all the souls he had to reap, the ones that were barely strong enough against the illness to fight back, the ones that spent far too long of time in his opinion to experience their stages of death...

_'And not a damn bit of help!' _Grell cried inwardly. Honestly, he loved Willy, he did! But damn that man all to hell sometimes. As if the man got his jolly's off on giving the red reaper these insane missions and not bothering to assign any help whatsoever!

"Senior! Hey!" called a voice from the right of him, snapping him out of his thoughts he turned to see a grinning Ronald Knox waving at him from his lax place at one of the sunk in black sofa-chairs, a brown bob-haired female reaper sitting on the other sofa-chair next to him. Without a second glance Grell slugged himself over to the two reapers his green eyes closing in on that oh-so tempting matching couch that completed the small furniture set up.

Ronald, seeing his senior reaper more up close now, gave a whistle. "Bloody hell, Senior, you look a mess. Wild night at the mingles club?" He smirked boyishly and the female reaper blushed. Grell huffed back, swinging his chainsaw on the middle coffee table with a loud smack he threw himself on to the couch and put a hand over his eyes, limbs sprawled and his red attire spilling over the couch. Ronald rolled his eyes and chuckled; was there anything his senior did without exaggerating?

"Ugh, I wish!" he whined, "Consumption up in the country side. Took me three days! _Three Days_, Ronnie!"

"Ouch."

Taking the hint that she suddenly became the third wheel the female reaper rose awkwardly and collected her books "Well I really must be going Ronald! My lunch break is about to end. Are we still on for dinner?" Ronald gave her his signature smile-and-wink, "Of course, Christine, I can't wait." The poor girl blushed madly and put a hand to her assumed-to-be fluttering chest. Now it was Grells turn to roll his eyes; the ol' smile-and-wink gets them everytime.

With a shy smile she nodded, "Bye-bye Ronald!" she turned to give a polite nod to Grell, who only exchanged her look with a bored sideways glance. "Good day, Mr. Sutcliff!" And with that she hurried back to work with expeditious clicks of her high heels. Grell watched her leave and turned to see Ronald also watching her go with a soft smile and dreamy half-lidded eyes.

"She likes my scythe." He winked. Grell snorted humorously, wiggling himself deeper into the comfort of the couch.

"Cuter than one you had last week, that's for sure."

"Libby? Yeah she was great too."

"Hmph, you never say those kinds of things about _me_, Ronnie. And we've been through so much!"

Ronald let out an amused chuckle as he sat up. "I'm surprised you'av this much energy to flirt, Senior."

"Eh, not my best." Grell waved a dismissing hand at his junior as he closed his eyes warily. This was the most rest he could remember getting in a long time, and he could definitely feel the deprivation in his screaming muscles. His arms felt like lead weights, his legs slightly shaky, his gorgeous red locks dirty and in desperate need of some therapy. Ugh, he was a wreck, but felt himself drifting too far into a delightful nap to worry about that at the moment. His breathing started to even as he found himself being lulled more by Ronald's chatty tangents of his past trysts and rendezvous with the office staff.

"...but blimey, having a girl like Amelia, now _she _was swell. Tough bird, great curves, a great big round ar-"

_SMACK_

"_Sutcliff_."

"Umph!" Grell grunted in surprise, eyes widening frantically to see a large stack of papers resting on his stomach. Of all the...! His red brows furrowed, searching around for the bloody bastard that had the up most audacity to slam a stack of paperwork on his-!

Grells green eyes met Williams in an equal glare, and suddenly all the ferocity drained from Grell, from pissed off cougar to helpless kitten. He gulped.

"Spears, sir!" Ronald shouted, not sure if more surprised than normal pleasantries, and sat straight in his chair. William glanced quickly at Ronald, then back to Grell monotonously. His stiff straight posture made him look taller, glasses pushed back catching the glare that shielded his eyes from view.

"W-Will..." Grell whined sleepily.

"Sleeping on the job again, Sutcliff? Not unusual however always highly irritating." William tsked, frustration well hidden but Grell and Ronald knew how to scope out the signs.

"B-But...!"

"I've heard all your reasoning before, Grell." William cut in once more. This was another sign of just how frustrated or angry William was; where reasoning with him was considered ridiculous, getting a word in edgewise was guffawed. "You still haven't filled out the necessary paperwork for the Consumption outbreak, which may I remind you was due yesterday afternoon..."

"W-What? I just got-"

"...nevertheless, I will waiver the matter this time if you get those back to me in the next hour. And also,"

"Hour? Will darling you can't possibly-"

Grell was abruptly cut off again this time not by Williams mechanic scolding but with a manila portfolio being slapped on the small table next to him, the defined slap of the folder catching his tired green eyes as they switched from and back to his supervisor's stoic eyes.

"You will be assigned to a case of unscheduled deaths in Bloomsbury at 3pm. Which is," he flicked his wrist into his suit pocket and pulled out a pocket watch, "in two hours."

"This is outrageous!" Grell wailed childishly, scooping the paperwork off his lap and dropping it in a sloppy heap on the ground, folding his arms together and turning his head away from William with a long sway of his red hair, pouting as hard as he possibly could.

There was an intermission of silence then, the air becoming awkward and tense. Ronald gulped, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as he glanced back and forth from one senior to the other. He watched as William took on a rather pointed look, lips becoming a thin line. He glanced back to see Grell intensely glaring at nothing in the distance, his foot tapping the ground and the biggest pout on his feminine face that Ronald had ever seen.

"Knox." He was addressed sharply by William and Ronald caught the tone immediately. Standing up hastily he nodded to both his seniors. "Right! I'll just...get To that appointment, then." He hurried away, passing the couch he gave a whispered, "good luck, mate" to Grell and with that he hurried down one of the long corridors, waiting until he was out of range to shiver slightly. He most certainly _did not _want to run the risk of getting caught up in their banter. William and Grell knew each other for so long the two of them always handled their issues albeit differently than the other reapers, even himself. Understanding this was something Ronald had to learn first hand, and it always felt like he was eavesdropping in on an age-old friendship.

William waited until Ronald was out of earshot before unleashing the heavy sigh he had held in. With another adjustment of his glasses he took a step closer to the flamboyant reaper closing in the distance slightly to create a more comfortable sense of privacy.

"You may think I enjoy being this insistent with you..."

Grell huffed, "Think? I _know_, darling."

"You are mistaken, Grell. This is the proper work load of all reapers, taking orders from higher up, to do our jobs efficiently and without complaint-"

"'No More and No Less' yes yes I've heard it all before, a thousand times!" Grell brought his gloved fingers up to rub the bridge of his nose, heaving his own exasperated sigh. He then looked up to meet Williams stare, grimacing slightly at how _emotionless _it was.

"And you don't have to be so bloody rigid about it, either." William blinked at the softer tone in Grells voice, which was a rarity for anyone even William to hear. As soon as the moment was there it was gone and taking one more step forward the supervisor addressed the red reaper not as his subordinate, but this time as his friend.

"What I enjoy," he started taking on a softer tone of his own. _That _got Grell's attention; his eyes widened only slightly. William continued, "is seeing you do your work efficiently, taking this seriously, not for my benefit but to keep you out of confinement. Your attributions to Dispatch is one I would rather not prefer to see terminated."

Grell's pout melted from his face, his eyes wide as he felt his friend give him a moment to take it all in. '_Not my style of proclaiming true feelings, but it's the most he'll give me_.' He thought with a rather melancholic mood swing. In a fluid red motion Grell relinquished his scythe, grabbing the portfolio and dropping it on top of the stack of papers and lifted the entire stack all the while keeping a sad smile and a handsome blush on his face. "You always know what to say, Will~." He wasn't sure if he was lying or being completely honest. For now he'd consider this a template of sorts; an already prepared action and scheme of phrases to cruise him out of his particular situation, the exhaustion too overpowering to act his usual brash.

"But you owe me, Willy!" He winked at his supervisor as he walked past him.

"I owe _you_?" Grell laughed as he caught the hint of exasperation in Williams voice.

"Mm-hmm~!" the flamboyant reaper turned to give the other man his signature sideways-tongue-grin. "I expect nothing more than the finest Cabernet Sauvignon with you, my dear! Ta-ta!" And with that Grell made his way out the lobby and through the west corridor to his office, leaving William with a deadpanned stare at his fleeting form.

And in that instance; only a miniscule moment of constriction in Williams chest erupted, a subconscious urge to hold his breath as a foreign chill crossed his spine. For a split second longer he felt as though it was within his right to call the red-head back, postpone him for even a second, but for what? He wasn't sure.

'_As if_,' William thought, '_if I don't, something will surely happen_.'

A loud laugh from a passing-by group of lower-ranked reapers snapped William from his thoughts and he shoved his hand in his suit pocket for his pocket watch again. 1:15pm. Wonderful. As always it seemed there was simply no time for wandering minds as there was too much work to be done. Dismissing all previous thoughts William went about his way down the opposite corridor Grell had taken, to his own office to complete the rest of the days tasks.

**-:-**

_'Lucky me. Smack dab in the slums, of course!' _Grell humored himself cynically as he observed the shady rinky-dinked high-rise he was about to walk into. Cursed building looked as if it survived multiple fires and countless wars...and he was about to walk into that! And from the looks of the entire street the area seemed almost abandoned; shops boarded and decayed, trash blowing by gently with the eerie breeze that came in through the alley ways, sending a chill through Grells body. He grimaced in disgust. Really, a lady shouldn't have to submit herself to such filthy work as this!

"The ABSOLUTE finest bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, William-dear!" He grumbled to himself, grumpy from the lack of sleep attributing to his frustration.

Wanting to get this over and done with Grell shut his instruction book and stalked into the high-rise, marching up the stairs in search of the specific room noted in the book. Room 1401. Hm, had a rather odd ring to it, but Grell dismissed it as a placebo effect. No sense getting superstitious just because everything else appeared haunting and ghastly. He continued on, up the stairs, around corners, and up more stairs. Through the darkness of the hallways he could barely even see the doors he passed, taking one step at a time up the pitch-black stairs. At one moment he stopped and observed a random door; 1379, he was close! He strolled down the hallway passing a few more doors until he stopped in front of one. He moved closer to inspect the number. Etched into the small gold slab in the middle of the door, dirty, scarred, it read; 1401. Grell hummed proudly. Yes! That closer to getting off work!

The door seemed eroded, misshapen as if once found sitting in a swamp prior to its current use. Being already slightly ajar all Grell had to do was give a small push and the hinges screeched to life as the door swung open gently, and Grell stepped inside. He pursed his lips at the sight. Just as ghastly as the entire building the room looked nothing short of a surprise. Dusty, dank, the gloomy cast of light showing in from the front room window only allowing Grell just enough light to notice the furnishing. Dusty decayed furniture, a small dining area, cabinet doors in the kitchen swung open revealing only cobwebs stored within them. Ugh, this was going to be a nasty job indeed.

A movement in the corner, just short of the windows foggy light, caught his green eyes instantly, and his brow lifted in question.

'_Hello...what do we have...'_

Grell stepped closer and closer, cautiously, until his foot caught against something limp. He looked down, and once his vision re-adjusted to the dark he stumbled back a few steps realizing in alarm just what he tripped over.

A leg.

Completely mangled, barely attached by mere tendons to what one could say was once a body. The clothing torn to ribbons, large chunks of the corpse missing. A rich copper smell followed the sight, blood. Grell clicked his tongue at the sudden surge of excitement at the thought of the red color adding to the gaunt decor of this haggard room. A nice touch, he thought amusingly.

"D-d-d-d..."

A whimper in the corner. Grells attention snapped right up to gaze upon a pale woman huddled and cowering in the corner, eyes giant and quivering looking at nothing but the un-profound images that were most likely coursing through her mind. Her frail trembling body rocked back and forth, her arms holding something, a bundle of rags.

_An infant..._

Grells brow furrowed at the sight. This woman's soul was the only one he sensed in the room, in the entire building actually, which brought about an obvious realization: the bundle was dead as well. For a miniscule moment Grell sympathized for the woman. He walked slowly over to the woman noticing more and more along the way the blood stained battered condition of her gown, the skin that shown through the tattered cloth gashed and bruised.

Just what the fuck was going on?

"D-d-d-d-d-d," her quiet whimper met Grells ears, and he tsked softly. "Come now, stop all that. A lady should face her end with some respect, shouldn't you agree?"

The woman didn't seem to acknowledge the grim reaper approaching her, her attention dead set on whatever was in the room or in her mind. This heavily agitated Grell. Silly bird, was she not all there? Maybe a little show would catch her attention. In one swoop his fingers gripped the handle of his newly unleashed modified scythe, watching with much admiration as the light caught the blade perfectly and shined proudly through the dark reminding the sadistic reaper of his own pearly white canines.

Still, the woman remained where she was, rocking terrifically back and forth, eyes unwavering and lips trembling like a fish out of water. Grell's eyebrow twitched and he growled.

"Fine, have it your way. I'm having quite a bad day as well, but you don't see me acting like a cow." He stopped himself. Wow, was he arguing with this silent woman? The sleep-deprivation must be getting to him more than he thought. He raised his scythe, seconds away from roaring his toy to life...

"I say, is that my lunch you're about to steal from me?"

With a small shout Grell stilled his swing, whirling to face the third presence in the room. What the...?! Just when in the seven hells did that presence arrive? Such a dirty aura, bitter to the taste. How could such a skilled grim reaper such as himself completely overlook this?

Just past the streams of light there sat an antique chair and seated pleasantly at ease on that chair Grell was met with two pink-red eyes staring at him, mirth and humor swirling in their depths. One leg folded over the other, hands clasped together in his lap peacefully. A dark green suit, copper-colored hair, olive-complected skin. An undoubtedly handsome character, Grell had to admit.

_'Can't hold a flame to Bassy...' _The thought almost set him off in a daydream of his beloved crow had the being not spoken up again.

"Hello there." He tipped his head slightly with that same smile. Innocence only a thin very artificial layer on his face. Honestly, who did this cad think he was fooling? Grell Sutcliff was by no means a fool; a little clumsy, bit of ditz at times, hopeless romantic especially, but not a fool. He could have chuckled at the thought...those who thought him a fool sadly never had the chance to change their opinions.

"D-d-d-d-demon," the woman finally piped pitifully, gripping the lifeless bundle closer to her breasts. "demon...demon...demon...demon...demon..._demon_..._demon_..."

"Enough with the chanting it's quite obvious, dear." Grell scolded the woman. Yes it was _plainly _obvious. He straightened himself and acknowledged the demon finally, giving a curt nod. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" he gave his own pretend courtesy. He _was _an actress after all.

"Quite. But I am by no means perturbed by it." He lifted a gloved hand at Grell, showing his dismissal of hostility with a stretch of his smile. "I've all the patience in the world."

"Lovely! Unfortunately I do not." Grell grinned, sticking the end of his scythe into the wood beneath and propping himself against the other end. He watched the demons eyes widened slightly, a light shade of confusion on his face while his smile dropped a little.

"Look, Handsome, I'm here on business. I've got to investigate why this lively bunch," he nodded to the corpse and the woman holding her infant's body, "are dying unscheduled, so I'm going to need her soul for the paperwork- I hope you don't mind. Nothing personal, love, just doing my job." He grin morphed into a sickly sweet smile at the demon.

A pause, and the sound of soft chuckles filled the air. The demon stood, much taller than Grell had expected, perhaps taller than Williams 6'0ft, and using his long lanky arms he adjusted his tie amusingly.

"Actually, I do mind. _Love_." He took a calm step forward, and Grell tensed. Of course demons were always going to make it harder than it actually was. An age-old belief in the grim reaper world; throw a demon into a problem and you've got yourself a full-blown dilemma.

"It's rude to take ones meal away from them while it's still being prepared. I'm sure you can agree with me on that." He winked. Humph, what a joke.

"Still being prepared?"

"Why yes!" The demon chirped. "That chap over there? His soul was much too pure, a great man with no sins or sorrow. Tasteless. And the infant was much too unripe, I just wasn't satisfied. But _hers_," He grinned wickedly at the traumatized woman in the corner and the woman in question ceased her manic chants instantly, "her soul is magnificent, so much pain, so much suffering, a harsh life she has endured. Delicious." An abnormally long forked tongue slipped between the demons lips and lapped at them with all the predatory look of a starved individual. "But not quite finished. I'm merely...how you would say, _seasoning _her, at the moment."

Grell didn't know what sickened him more, the fork tongue or the impressively psychotic way he described the dying human. Either way it didn't matter now, he knew what was to come already. This demon was not going to let his meal go so easily. He inwardly cursed his luck once more at the impending overtime he was surely about to face.

"My, I've never seen your species before. Tell me, lizard demon, have you got a name?" Grell cleared his face of expression knowingly at the decision made in his head.

The demon bowed with one hand to his chest one hand behind him. "You may call me Stellio, grim reaper." To the demons sudden surprise and growing frustration he had caused Grell to start cackling with laughter. His smile turned to a grimace as he watched a grim reaper mock him.

"Ah-haa~! I see what you did there." Grell reached a finger behind his glasses and wiped a tear from his eye. "As I should tell you mine I suppose." He bowed curtly. "Grell Sutcliff. Well, _Stellio_, I guess it's come down to only few options."

"Really? Because I only know of one."

In half a blink he was gone from sight, as if he was never there. No ominous wind, no sound, Stellio just...vanished. Grell finished his blink and suddenly sorely wished he hadn't. A hard fist collected the front of his vest and under shirt, something sharp cutting into his chest. Before Grell had time to as much as even yelp he was lifted into the air and flung forward, entire body sailing through the air busting through the window, shattered glass soaring with him. Before his body could collide with the exterior wall of the neighboring high-rise the reaper caught himself, planting his feet firmly on the brick and launched himself off toward the room he was so rudely thrown from. He roared his chainsaw to life ready to chop the insolent man. "It's rude to throw a lady through a _window_, wouldn't you say!?"

His speedy attempt to return back into the room stopped short as a foot came shooting out of the shadows a second too late connecting with Grell's sternum, sending the red reaper in an instantaneous moment of overwhelming pain only to fall straight down in a coughing spell. He was able to catch himself just before landing on the alley floor, stumbling to his knees he put a hand to his throbbing chest. Fuck that hurt. He drew as much air into his lungs as possible. Why the nerve of that...!

A piercing scream echoed around him. Bones cracking, skin ripping, a satanic otherworldly roar shortly followed after. A normal human would have spilled his stomach contents on the ground at such a sound, but it only served to enrage Grell. That bloody bastard! Not only did the lizard brat disrespect him, knocked the air from his lungs, but now he'd gone and done it! Taken the very soul William had assigned him to collect! And now he would have to go back to HQ with nothing but a silly story to tell and William would not hesitate to punish him further.

Grell snarled at the realization; William would be disappointed yet again. After the little tiff at the office he seemed to have gotten somewhere with William, a crack of an opening past those stone layers of resolve and A-rated work ethic to manage just a fragment of who his boss use to be. For the past few years his old friend and confidant had shut him out, closing the blinds and leaving Grell without as much as a clue at why he found himself included in everything that the stoic reaper didn't care for. Today had been just a toddler step forward...

...and it was all ruined!

Rage numbed the pain from Grells chest and he stood, revving his chainsaw threateningly. His lip curled in a sneer showing sharp pearly white teeth.

"Get out here, you son of a bitch!"

His rage was rewarded with silence, and suddenly a clear as day chuckle emitted from in the dark room. A blur of green shot out of the broken window in an nonhuman like speed, landing only feet away from Grell. Stellio landed with a ground shaking thud, standing tall over Grells average height. The soft tap of blood droplets meeting cobblestone was heard and the reaper noticed then just how soaked in blood the demon was. That woman's blood. Splattered over Stellio's face, his arms and torso completely covered, dripping off his suede shoes.

"My my, usually I find handsome men covered in such beautiful red quite arousing," Grell snarled with a sick grin, "although the fact that it's not yours is quite a turn off."

Stellio chuckled again, raising a clawed hand to his mouth and his forked tongue lapped at the blood. Those pink-red eyes flashed brightly, a grin splitting his face ear to ear. "My her soul was as delicious as I expected! Quite satisfying! Aah I feel so enlightened now!" His chuckle turning to ill-minded cackles. He outstretched his other blood coated arm to Grell, beckoning him forward with his talon fingers enticingly. "Come at me, little reaper! I wish to burn some of this energy!"

And Grell charged like a madman, bringing up his death scythe to slug it down in a slant across Stellio's face and chest. The demon countered, moving a fraction of an inch back to avoid the bladed rotating chain bringing his leg up to send a swift kick to Grell's side in which he side-stepped out of just in time, twirling on the balm of his right foot and swinging the death scythe back up to slice him once more.

Stellio hopped back, using the same technique Grell performed prior and used the brick wall of the high-rise to launch himself forward, spinning his body in a way to gain more momentum as he flew toward his adversary. Grell gasped, doing the only thing his brain could scream at him and dropped to his knees holding his chainsaw straight up to await the collision of Stellio's skull with the blade. He knew he was going too fast to redirect. Instead the lizard threw his hand up, once flesh and blade collided Grell could feel the pleasant splash of blood on this face from just above him.

About time!

Stellio spiraled over the chainsaw, flying toward the other brick wall with a sickening _CRAAAACK _as his back met the weak brick concaving a good chunk from the sheer force. He hissed in pain, bringing his gnarled hand up to inspect it. Split down to the bone the wound split the four fingers into pairs of two. An unsightly wound, Grell thought pointedly. He looked up to meet the demons eyes and his own widened in reaction. They were a flaming crimson, wide and the pupils so much of a slit you could barely see them. A shiver ran up the red reapers spine; he had most definitely pissed him off now. He couldn't stop the small smirk that graced his lips. Good, he was so ready to get this over with.

Grell took a step forwarded only to freeze with the abrupt notion that constricted his heart with fear. His eyes glanced down in confusion, and to his horror he had answered his own question.

His knees were starting to shake.

Three days with no rest, barely a nap. All that time spent in the country side with the Consumption outbreak, the exertion, the exhaustion, was all starting to take its last toll on his body. The adrenaline flowing through him was enough to temporarily distract him from his initial aches and pains, but his body had finally had it, protesting at what could possibly be _the worst _bloody moment! That familiar lead weight creeping into his limbs. Huh, he had a hunch his death scythe felt just a tad heavier than usual.

'_Just a little longer, until I get rid of this sod. Then I'll give you the rest you deserve.' _He pleaded with himself. All he needed was a little more time.

Unfortunately no sooner had he thought this Stellio's cackles of mad laughter were back, resonating through the alley and haunting Grell's ears. The demon threw his wounded arm back, blood spurting to the ground and he whipped his head back as the hysterics took over.

"Wow! You're more fun than I thought you'd be, I must admit!" The demon's stance then changed, crouching as a cheetah would before pouncing on their prey, eyes sparkling with murder and blithe. "You have undoubtedly earned my undivided attention, sir!"

Grells gulp went unnoticed. '_Oh fuck_.'

Stellio vanished once more, and Grell's chest tightened with apprehension. Was this delirium? Could his mind be blotching out very important tidbits of his vision? He desperately hoped not. And again he unfortunately found himself out of time to further ponder for those crimson eyes were now quickly approaching him followed by the return of a green blur. Panicked he swung his death scythe forward partly expecting his blade to slice through the lizards torso with miracle timing. He did not expect, however, that Stellio would somersault over his swing landing gracefully behind him.

"Whaa...uuahhgh!" He screamed as four, yes he was quite sure of the amount, four sharp talons tore down his back and he hissed at the sound of his flesh ripping with his clothing. Too soon for the reaper to recover that he felt a harsh kick to the wounds, sending him flying forward only to stumble a few more feet. A hand then gripped his throat with such overwhelming strength and lifted him, bringing his weight and all crushing down against the cobblestone beneath, finally dragging him back up from the ground and sending him hurled against the brick wall.

Grell could only sputter weakly in between choked raspy gulps of air, his back throbbing so much so he thought he was going to be nauseous. He cracked his eyes opened to meet those damned crimson eyes mere inches from his. That sick sadistic grin. He watched when those same eyes began to search his face, taking all of his appearance in. Grell groaned disgustedly. What was he looking for?

"My..." he breathed into Grells face, "you know, I've never stopped and actually looked at you before, but now that I have you are quite beautiful." His wounded hand shot up and roughly shoved the red bangs out the reapers face to catch a better glimpse. "Ah, how lovely. Not only that, but you're a _divine being_. I'm beginning to wonder just how lovely you would taste, _Grell_." A single talon on the wounded hand rudely shoved Grells head back into the wall, the razor-sharp edge traveling down his neck clipping the skin on his collarbone and trailing it down his chest past his stomach and stopping at his narrow hip.

A forked tongue slithered out, tickling under Grells jaw and leaving a trail of saliva up one side of the reapers face.

"Uuaagh!" _Now _Grell was sure he going to be nauseous. His green eyes widened and for the first time in their encounter he allowed Stellio to witness his fear. Adding insult to injury Stellio giggled with excitement at the oh-so vulnerable sight the reaper allowed him to see.

A rather rapid mood swing engulfed Grell and he snarled at the lizard. Damn fool! How _DARE _he take it upon himself to steal a taste! He blood boiled. He may have been the everyday natural flirt, but he was picky about the men he allowed to touch him in such ways!

"A-A little late for that, you sick fuck." he spat blood on the demons face erupting a guttural cry from him. With all the strength and flexibility of his neck that he could muster he did the only proper action he could think of when in desperate times such as this.

"Headbutt!" He barked as he collided foreheads with the demon looming over him, knocking him back and instantly relinquishing his crushing grip on Grell's esophagus. Another satanic howl erupted from his assailant and he stumbled back still recuperating from the headbutt.

There was no time to waste. Grell forced himself into a long-legged sprint and swung his scythe madly at the demon.

Oh how perfect that hit would have been...had it nailed its intended target. His arms were just a fraction too weak to fully wield his chainsaw, that being the start of a butterfly effect that in the end threw off his calculations that would have won him this battle. He couldn't even be grateful for the blade shredding through Stellio's thigh, ripping open like a bag full of meat spilling forth a small waterfall of blood.

Stellio screamed, his rage unleashed to its potential. He vanished once more. Grell wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. He couldn't have seen things! This bloody demon could disappear! Shit, was he battling a being that could turn invisible this whole time? Impossible! Then that being thought, the battle would have most likely ended sometime ago...the curtains drawn on his tragic end no doubt.

The next thing Grell knew he felt the whoosh of an object hurling at his head. He wanted to dodge, God he wanted to, but his body just wouldn't let him. Blood loss, delirium, muscle strain, fuck it all the above, he couldn't tell what was weighing on him more. But he stood as still as he could on two legs, unable to do anything as a force comparable to a cargo train smashed into his temple.

And the black outs began, like a damaged roll of film his memory skipped small segments of time. Grell came to at the moment his body was skidding across the cobblestone, a time-lapse, and he was trying desperately to get up, another time-lapse of darkness this time longer and with it providing him only partial vision. Grell yelped, panic and absolute fear freezing his chest and he let loose a full-body tremble.

'_This is bad, this is very bad. He's blinded me...' _Warning sirens screamed in his half-conscious mind, fighting its way to the surface. '_Swing! Just start swinging, you idiot!' _And without question he searched around himself frantically following the rumble of his motor. His fingers gripped a handle. Yes! He lifted it with much struggle, swinging it around him hysterically. He was afraid, he was actually -from the bottom of his heart- _afraid_. The closest fear he's come to in a very long time, the most current memory of such terror was during his battle with Sebastian, when the damned-gorgeous demon had intended to kill him with his own death scythe. He was truly terrified for his life then, but not blinded, not threatened to be tasted like a dish presented to the demon, inevitably saved by William in the end...

"Hahahahahaha!" Stellio's cackling, echoing off the walls around him, in every direction. His heart skipped a beat. '_William!_' Saying that name ignited some miniscule delirious warmth in his frozen chest. He'd do anything to see him perched on the rooftop above, watching as he received quite the ass-whooping waiting for the precise moment to jump in and save him.

'_This is no fairytale...'_ a voice rasped in his head, a friendly reminder that Grell himself wasn't all there anymore; the head injury must have done some intensive damage to him.

"Oh I see! Did I blind you, little reaper?" Stellio's voice drawled now closer than ever. Grell continued to swing his chainsaw. A short-lived defense when he received a swift kick to his wrist and with a scream of pain the reaper let go of his chainsaw listening as its purr faded the farther it skidded away from him.

"Then I guess you won't be needing these anymore, huh?" Stellio grinned, reaching down he jerked the red spectacles from Grells face, the small chain link around his neck snapping at the brute force, and smashed them in his fist. Grell whimpered at the loss of his glasses only seconds after to hear them crack and crumble inches away from his face.

Dropping the remains of the glasses he then shoved his fist into Grell's hair, grabbing a voluminous amount of the red locks at the base of his scalp and lifted him up, earning a screech of pain as his sadistic reward. Unbeknown to Grell in his current state he failed to see Stellio wet his lips with his forked tongue. The lizard lowered his head now intimately close to the reapers, and whispered playfully.

"How lovely. You'd better not pass out on me yet, little reaper, because if you do I'll just wait for you. After all..." A long talon of his other hand clipped Grell's chin up, another finger dragging across his parted lips.

"...I've all the patience in Hell."

**-:-**

**A/N: Why did Grell get so tickled at Stellio's name? It's actually latin for "lizard/gecko/snake" because I'm unoriginal lol.**

**ATTENTION! To anyone who has read this story I am in need of your glorious opinions! YOUR VOTES ARE MY SAVING GRACE! :D **

**The main pairing of this story has still yet to be determined, and because of that the supporting pairing has yet to be determined as well, so I would more than appreciate your votes! Below is the characters I would like for main and supporting pairings:**

******Grell (who is obviously a main), Undertaker, William, Ronald (who will be supporting)******

**Since right now it seems like a GrellxWilliam story, I have yet to introduce Undertaker (but next chapter... ;) however it does depend on your votes to see where the character goes from here!**

**Thank you all for viewing my story! I hope to have the next chapter up as soon as possible!**

**-Joker and the Thief**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and votes! I apologize this took me a little longer than expected :) but here it is! And because of all your helpful votes, this will be an Undertaker/Grell piece. I apologize for those of you who preferred otherwise, I do love love a good William/Grell however I have future plans for other stories in mind for those two (mehehehe)**

**I hope all of you enjoy!**

**Warning: chapter contains gore, violence, rape.**

**Chapter 2**

St. George's Church, which sat comfortably on Gordon Street, was a center of beauty no one passing by could simply ignore what with the neo-gothic style only embellishing its dark yet holy allure. On the off-hand chance that the overcast of London's thick smog elevate only just slightly and allow the orange-red cast of evening over-glow to kiss the roof tops and roll-moulded arches, creating what aspirers and admirers alike to proclaim the church had a never ending flame, to blaze but never burn, only to be extinguished by the chill of the moon soon to be setting over the town.

Undertaker was drooling.

He _was_ a grim reaper; an in between of god and human, and the after life was his forte. Churches, morgues, cemeteries, oh! So wonderful. So peaceful. The dead's many resting spots. Not to mention his eye for architectural beauty, which he enjoyed almost as much as a good laugh.

Giving one last drawn out glance at the large recently constructed building he nodded satisfyingly. The Bloomsbury area was a rather adequate choice for passing through. Undertaker mused at the notion that he usually never strayed from his few trusted routes if his profession took him out far enough. Plenty of little nesting spots if the mortician felt he had time to park his hearse carriage and stop in a named pub for a cup of tea or two, maybe a biscuit. But this time, coming all the way back from the small town of Horley it had been quite a long trek, even for a being of his stature. Long hours of sitting on hard wood while feeling every bump and groove in the road made him numb in certain areas and a slouch in his posture stiffened the muscles in his lower back. Road trips on a horse-drawn carriage was certainly nothing he enjoyed.

With a flash of black robes and gray-silver hair Undertaker turned and started towards the said carriage, admitting to himself that if he wanted to get back before the night settled he'd have to eventually get on the cursed thing. There was still so much lovely work to be done! Especially since news of the Consumption in the northern area had spread like wildfire through London. The typical gossip on every street corner was enough to keep any passer-by in the loop, soon following did that little brat that worked for the printing company would stop by shouting about his newspapers and the latest countrywide hearsay.

_'A tragic outbreak of the sick indeed,' _Undertaker mused, _'but it'll just mean more business for ol Undertaker!' _He could have squealed at the delightful thought. All the different designs of coffins he could make! The embalming! Primping the corpses before their final show!

Arriving to his parked carriage he untied the reigns from the wooden bench just on the other side of Gordon Street. After prepping his horse he climbed into the front of the carriage and gripped the leather reigns tight in one of his fists. A few jerks and the black Clydesdale gave an obedient nay and picked herself up to a steady pace. Down the long winding cobblestone streets of the town, taking the sharp left, a round about circling a large vine consumed fountain, straight down until taking the last right on the street.

"Oh~ I love my job! Yes I do..." Undertaker hummed happily thinking back to the past few days of his business trip, not realizing his path led him into the more poverty stricken part of town where flourishing little stores morphed to boarded up empty lots, trash littering the sidewalks, buildings eroded and neglected. But he didn't mind it at all, in fact the mortician found a since of morbid humor in seeing the broad differences between London's rich and poor. He continued onward with the off-pitch little tune in his head.

Honestly, what could possibly ruin such a wonderful day as this?

Undertaker was soon interrupted by the gurgle in his stomach. He grinned. "I believe I shall top the day off with a nice snack!" Ah, he'd just remembered! During his start back home he found the most pleasant little cafe out in the country. To his absolute delight he realized they sold his favorite bone cookies! Such a rarity those were! So overwhelmed with joy he had bought enough jars full to last him to whoever knows how long. Reaching into his robes he felt for the jar, which soon became a difficult task with a robe full of belongings and one hand steering his horse.

_'Blasted jar...' _finally his fingers found the smooth glass and with a grin he unveiled his treat.

Undertakers determination to his cookies ended as the front right wheel hit a distinct pothole in the road sending the carriage rocking back and forth stridently. His eyes widened behind his bangs as he watched the jar slip quietly out of his hands, tragically taking a leap of faith out of his reach and disappearing into the darkness of a passing alley. Undertaker could only stare back in a stupor. "Oh bugger." He huffed. He tugged on the reigns forcing the Clydesdale to an abrupt stop and the massive animal let out a displeased huff of her own.

Climbing off the carriage he tutted at his horse. "Be back in a bit, dear!" He back-peddled quickly to the alley his jar of cookies rolled into. Unfortunately the alleys were a bit darker than the open streets, the narrow tarnished building archways gave little room for light. Not only that but the stench of trash muted out his sense of smell almost entirely. He could put up with the smell of an embalmed human, or even a rotting human, better than he could human waste. A putrid stench.

However, through the ungodly smell of abandoned trash, through the bottomless darkness of the shadows, Undertaker could definitely feel something; a kind no human could ever achieve to experience, sparking in your chest before trailing up to sound warning bells in your head. It was the presence of another reaper in the vicinity, he was sure of it.

Grim reapers had many senses, one namely allowing another reaper to sense the existence of another grim reaper if well within a certain distance. There was even a class provided by the Grim Reaper Academy allowing future reapers to be able to shroud their presence with enough discipline and self-preservation. More of a privilege to learn than mandated yet only the highest esteemed grim reapers were able to perfect the technique. In this case Undertaker could feel the other reaper very close. Perhaps in one of these high-rises gathering up a collection of the drug-overdosed whores and street wanderers? That was certainly a believable assumption...

But nevertheless, Undertaker was only creeping through the alley to get back his precious cookie jar, not dilly-dally with a reaper on duty. However...

A cunning grin adorned the morticians lips. Perhaps his services could be in order? Maybe lingering a bit longer and he'd find himself with a new client! After all it wasn't a reapers responsibility to discard the body, and allowing a potential customer to go unattended was not heard of! Not providing the best form of business to help the newly deceased reach a final point of resting, why, what kind of Undertaker would he be?

Bang covered eyes scoped the area eagerly for the hidden reaper, searching high onto the roof tops and seeing no sign of a supernatural being he scanned the windows on either side. Odd, the presence was close, almost right next to him. But where could he be? There were only so many hiding places in the alley surely there wasn't a reaper alive today who could hide from him this well, not even in the darkest shadows of this shabby alley.

A gleam from the corner of his eye caught Undertaker's immediate attention and with a slight shift he glanced over to an old dumpster, over-filling with what could possibly be months or even years worth of forgotten trash; old clothes, bags of overdue rotted food, torn stained bits of weather-beaten furniture, heaven knows what else. _'Explains the smell.' _Undertaker scrunched his nose. But the gleam lay just next to the dumpster and its outskirts of spilled waste, and with a few cautious steps Undertaker realized with childish delight that he had finally found his jar of cookies.

"Wonderful!" He clicked his long black nails together with jollity and reached down to pick up his treat, attempting to brush the dirt and grime off when he felt a small tap on his boot. And then another. _'Hmm...?' _like thick rain droplets...what could possibly...

And that's when Undertaker finally realized his jar, his hands, even the tips of his sleeves, were covered in sticky cold blood.

Instinctively the mortician moved his boot, finding his own answer as the sound of his sole peeling from the cobblestone floor met his ears and he realized he was standing in a large puddle of blood. So much blood. Wise green eyes scanned about the ground taking in just how _much_ blood there was, and he gave a low whistle. Barely visible in the dark alley yet he could see it, the considerably large splotches and smears that adorned the cobblestone, a gruesome trail connecting each of the spots. The walls on each side were decorated too, exaggerated splatters painting cracked indentions in the exterior.

_'Quite a struggle...' _this was no mere death by poverty or any natural cause. The poor bloke who had found themselves here just hours ago, judging by the age of the blood, had met a most brutal untimely end. Undertaker was no investigator, but anyone with a brain and a wise eye for detail could speculate torture, a long drawn out and otherwise sloppy mutilation. The many emotions that occurred during that time practically decorated the walls and ground as the blood did, Undertaker could almost feel it as a small shiver prickled his skin.

Which lead to another thought that crossed his mind, and he quirked a brow in question. "All this, and yet no sign of a single..._ah._" He spoke too soon, locking onto a curled form once blended with the heap of trash now taking the shape of a mangled body. Undertaker chuckled darkly, stepping softly toward the limp form trying to get a better look despite his poor vision.

"_There_ you are..." He tsked quietly, "I almost overlooked you, m'dear. My my, what a mess you caused here." If only he could get a better look, but since he had been in the alley the sun managed to dip lower past the buildings casting a darker setting into the grisly scene before him. He came to a stop before the corpse and immediately felt the overwhelming tingle of the reapers presence. How very queer for a reaper not to make his appearance yet known while some dusty old figure snooped around their assignment.

An odd suspicion, deep, deep within the back of his mind whispered to him as he glanced upon the corpse...that maybe...could it be...

He dismissed the little voice of theory and returned to examining the body. Undertaker bent to a crouch to get a better look only to catch his breath at his throat; covered by shreds of what may have been a trench coat the body was barely clothed revealing under the shreds of cloth to be blue and black skin, scattered about the skin were deep heavily agitated gashes, the blood clotted and dried. _'Skin once so porcelain I bet.' _He noted sadly, what a shame to litter the beauty of alabaster flesh with ghastly bruises. He continued his scrutiny from the figure's gashed back to glimpses of long slender legs cut and scrapped raw taking into account the corpse's knees were skint almost to the bone. Traveling back up the legs past the curvature of the hip Undertaker soon found himself wracked with disgust. The body's shoulders and face were veiled by long hair, knotted and frayed with dirt and caked with too much dried blood to inspect for the obvious head wound.

_'A female...?' _His disgust twisted his face into a deep frown. Who could do this to a woman...well, to anyone really? Tragic. Undertaker didn't care too much for humans other than to observe; too fragile, lives so drastically short, _much _more pleasant company dead than alive, but such a gruesome fate as this poor creature endured he couldn't help but tut quietly to himself.

With a soft sigh Undertaker leaned in and extended a sympathetic hand to the poor figure. "Poor dear," he chided softly gently touching the gnarled skin of her back feeling the blaze of fevered flesh between his cold fingers...

...wait a second...

...fevered flesh?

Undertaker whipped his hand back in shock, eyes widened behind his curtain of bangs. Impossible... her skin should be chilled, judging from the age of the blood again the mortician was _roughly_ certain this bird had died hours ago! She should be _at least_ in the _livor mortis _stage! No human could survive these wounds...could they?

Immediately he brought his hand back, sifting through the blood matted hair with his fingers until he felt her neck, searching for any beating sign of life despite his disbeliefs.

There. A ghost of a pulse between his two fingers.

And a rather conspicuous bulge of an adams apple.

_'What?!' _One surprise after another! Not only was she alive...she was a _he_! _"_Hehe, well what'ya know." He chuckled darkly. Poor bloke had been through unspeakable matters and to top it all off the stubborn ass still seemed to have enough fighting force left in his veins to struggle back into this world...unless...

The old suspicion from before racked at his brain again, a familiar face flashed through his mind. He scoffed, the chances of _that were_ ridiculous.

But still...

The twinge in Undertaker's chest tightened aggravatingly, leaning back from the body he heaved a tired sigh. His attention turned to the entrance of the alley and cast his eyes at the street lamp growing brightly over the street, then back to the crumpled heap at his feet.

There was only one way to find out.

Undertaker reached down and placed one arm as gently as possible under the tattered shoulders, his other arm scooping up both legs under the knees being wary of the countless lacerations and in one swift motion he scooped the broken body to his chest. He glided with all the caution of someone carrying a glass vase, almost failing to hear the feeble whimper escape the man in his arms, and from the chill in his heart at the pathetic sound he wished he'd hadn't of heard it at all, for he was about to unmask the darkness of who this John Doe really was, to pour light into the face to blame for all this commotion the mortician stumbled into.

Before the Undertaker knew it his eyes met the flickering lamp of the street and he glanced back and forth from both directions of the street, thankful to be out of that filthy alley. He saw his hearse and his horse parked aways over seemingly as normal as when he'd left which seemed like ages ago.

The old reaper then glanced down and immediately hissed out a curse through his intense grimace.

"Shit..."

Damn his luck, damn his inept ability to guess correct at the worst times. He stared down into the broken bloody face of the young red-headed reaper he had met countless times, the one who worked under Spears. Grell...yes, that was the boy's name. The loud, brash, obnoxious, at times adorable, flamboyant grim reaper who demanded an audience and applause everywhere he went. A good source of entertainment now and then, Undertaker admitted thinking back to few times in the past where the ginger would come prancing into his shop, prattling on about his days adventures with the Phantomhive butler, how he loved cold men like Spears and about which woman this 'Ronnie' fellow was courting before swiping a cookie off his desk, winking seductively and taking a bite before strolling out of the shop with a sway of his hips, baring him a 'ta-ta~'.

That happy-go-lucky shark tooth grin was not there, replaced with a hauntingly blank face, taking notice the long horrific red gash splitting his face from one corner of his mouth to the soft spot of flesh under his earlobe, the sight was almost too hard to bare. For the first time in however long Undertaker could remember, his temper flared, aggravation flashing through his pale face. As annoying and reckless as this reaper could be at times, he didn't deserve this. He was his kind, a grim reaper, a divine being for God's sake! Such a disturbing act as this against a grim reaper came with hefty repercussions. However Grell was basically a walking broken law, which even if Undertaker found that to be the most interesting thing about the red-head, he had to admit his shenanigans were bound to catch up with him one day.

_'You damn brat,'_ Undertaker shook his head at the thought, _'what did you do to end up like this?'_

The shrouded mortician gently readjusted the injured reaper in his arms and decided time was something to consider now; the short time he stood there a small pool of blood had formed at his feet giving only to the realization that there were more serious wounds that had reopened. Grell needed immediate attention, but he wasn't familiar enough with his surroundings to seek a physician at this hour. The thought of opening a portal to the reaper realm was considered, but he dismissed it quickly after. That option would take much too long, and judging by the furious heat of the fevered body in its obviously brutalized state he found himself questioning the belief of immortality in the reaper he was holding. Undertaker glided quickly to his hearse and climbed in, using one knee he nudged a loose lid off of one of his empty coffins. He set the unconscious man down into the coffin and positioned him to keep from antagonizing anymore of his clotted wounds. Giving one last look at the reaper he closed the lid gently and hopped off and stepped to the front seat.

The horse gave a light snort at the movement behind her as her owner grabbed the reigns. "Such a good girl you are, Matilda." He reached over a patted her thigh. "Come, we have to make haste my dear, I sense a rather interesting turn of events in the horizon." He smiled darkly.

A stern tug of the reigns started the horse into a steady gallop and the carriage disappeared down the dimly lit poverty stricken ghetto.

-:-

_**Acting Field Agent Signature: Benedict Pettigrew**_

_**Administrative Approval Signature: William T. Spears**_

William leaned back in his chair slightly, relaxing the tension in his shoulders and set his pen to the side to rotate his aching wrist. He reached behind his glasses with a gloved hand and massaged the bridge of his nose. Hours straining over endless paperwork had began to exhaust his already poor eyesight. Taking short intermissions between each hour helped greatly to relieve the ache in his back and redirect him back into concentration. The last few hours of his shift had been to review the documents submitted by his more procrastinating subordinates who chose to turn in assignments by the very last minute.

"_Insufferable little..." _he growled uncharacteristically. The growing exhaustion was starting to take it's toll on him. Understaffed, overworked, this week had been most intolerable. Honestly, there must have been something in the water supply in the human world. The mortality rate had spiked a great number –by no means comparable to the Black Plague Case – starting all the way from the Influenza outbreak of 1836 to the most recent Consumption epidemic, outbreaks, wide-scale fires, viruses, poverty, war, it seemed as if humans enjoyed killing themselves and with it only tripling his usual workload. It seemed every reaper, from his top finest to his freshly graduated, were completely overwhelmed, which meant he'd have work _double_ _that_ to make sure some of them completed their work with accuracy.

William readjusted his glasses, stoic eyes glancing out the window and into the night sky of his 4th story view for only a short moment before fixing his attention to the paperwork in front of him. Short moments of personal thoughts were wasting time in his opinion. Work was work, no matter how much was assigned it was to be completed in order to achieve a harmony of effortless efficiency. Later, when he hears the scream of a tea pot while he relishes in the compositions of Georg Philipp Telemann and Hector Berlioz with a large leather bound book taunting his interest would he finally get the proper rest he felt he deserved.

As he was about to continue back to work he was interrupted by the familiar portentous ring of his desk phone. With a flick of the wrist he picked up the receiver and brought it to his ear. "Yes, Joanna?" He addressed his personal clerk.

He was met expectantly by the high pitched quiver of the young woman's voice. "Mr. Spears, sir, you have an incoming call on line 3." There was a pause there, as if she was to continue, but did not.

His two-toned eyes glanced at his open pocket watch he had placed on the desk earlier. He frowned. "At this hour? Any reference to the call?"

Another pause. "I'm not sure, sir, the signal is a bit scratchy..." William was seconds away from telling her to memo the call for tomorrow when he heard her voice cut back in, "...we are picking up the call from the mortal realm, sir."

All the agitation and exhaustion melted. His brows lifted in alarm. "Excuse me?" It was impossible, no telephone frequency could cross worlds to an office line. There were communicators specially designed for Dispatch to communicate from long distances, used strictly for emergencies when field agents found themselves in hostile situations. However the privilege to acquire one was met with strict limits; the request to use one had to be approved by General Affairs if not required in what they referred to certain dangerous assignments as "EX zones."

Still...even those communicators weren't powerful enough to reach his office line.

"'Some cheeky old man' was what he called himself, sir."

_'How absurd.'_ William thought wearily. Nevertheless, this was something that needed his superior attention. "Thank you." He dismissed the call and dropped the line.

Taking in a sharp breath he answered the new line. "Spears."

"My~, as chilly as ever I see!" William blanched, not expecting the lighthearted chuckle he was greeted with. Interesting...through the small snowy eruptions in the reception it was obvious who that deep drawl voice belonged to, always bleeding wise cynical humor and dripping with amusement was the legendary man he had grown to respect as his previous mentor, an ancient reaper whose great accomplishments would forever be etched in reaper history with the statues that adorned the great halls of the Library. But that great reaper was not the one on the other line, but the humble retired-now-turned mortician with a love for laughter.

"Undertaker, sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He started respectfully, only to cut the man off with a sharp question. "And may I ask how you were able to contact me on my private office line?"

"Hehe~well you could say there were few items I couldn't depart with after my retirement. I might have made a few modifications to it..."

"The Dispatch communicator devices are to be rented not owned, sir." William almost sighed. Honestly, he didn't have time for this. "Regardless, you must be calling me for something I assume I can assist you with?"

"Yes, yes, of course." There was shift in tone, humor fading somewhat into a severity William hadn't heard since his early academy days, his back stiffened with full attention as he waited for his ancient to continue.

"Dear me, how should I put this...well, earlier this evening I found myself in the company of a subordinate of yours. A very unique predicament I'd say, one most –"

William had heard enough, he sighed with a sudden surge of irritation blowing from his nostrils. He knew _exactly_ which one of his subordinates would take the time out of their schedule to wreak perverse havoc among the men of London. "My deepest apologies, Undertaker sir. If you allow me so I will be there momentarily to collect the _imbecile_ from your supervision," his gloved hand reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. Did the ginger not listen to a word he had said earlier? For years he was countless told how his stoicism would never get his employees to work gracefully for him, and the one shred of genuity he could have bestowed on anyone of them he chose to _waste _on the one person with a skull made of thick stone. He snarled tiredly, "honestly, constantly having to _babysit_ that useless–"

"_William._" He hadn't heard _that_ tone in quite a long time, and the younger reaper silenced immediately, taken aback by the deep-throat growl on the other end of the receiver. Momentarily forgetting _which_ side of the man he was talking to he stayed quiet, cautious and confused.

He heard the older being clear his throat, "you may not need to worry about babysitting his existence for very much longer then, Spears."

There was a pause then as both men became chillingly quiet. William narrowed his eyes when his suspicion of those words sank in. With a more stern tone he turned on his senior. "Is that a threat against my staff, sir? May I remind you –"He was interrupted by an exaggerated sigh. "Aah, as stubborn as always too. Allow me to put it in words that will hopefully get you to understand better, _boy._" William almost winced at the drastic malicious mood change in Undertaker's voice. How the madman could switch moods so fast the younger reaper would never understand, coming to the conclusion that it was something all truly insane men could pull off. An intimidating way of conversing, indeed.

"I found your little _imbecile_ so badly mutilated it took quite some time getting him stitched back together..."

Never before had William felt such a sting in his heart, never had his gut churned at hearing the words _mutilated_, and he struggled to listen to anything further Undertaker had to say. Two-toned eyes stared wide at nothing across the room, fingers clenching the phone so tightly he was sure the receiver would shatter.

"...Spears are you still with me?"

"Ah...yes, sir..."

"Good, then I suggest listening to this old windbag and making your way here as soon as you can." The signal became snowy then, and the dark haired reaper stood abruptly, gulping heavy he tried his best not to let his shock ring upon his words. _'Grell...'_ At the thought of the redhead's name he winced slightly, ghastly images hauntingly drifting passed his glazed eyes.

"Undertaker...what's the status of his stability as of now?"

More boisterous scratches in the reception was heard before the mortician replied softly, "hehe, if you really care to seek that answer I suggest you move quickly." And with a soft click the line went dead, the red light on the phone dimming and with it taking Williams resolve as he slammed the phone down hard. His fists connected with the desk and he knew he had to collect himself before leaving his office. This wasn't a time to lose oneself to the urges of their emotions.

Easier said then done, which was never something William found himself struggling to handle. In a fluid motion the head of Dispatch adjusted his glasses, straightened his tie, and grabbed his coat from the hanger by the door, however paused his hand from gripping the door knob when one particular scenario played in his head.

_'If this is one of Sutcliffs sick jokes...to see how upset I'd become over him...'_

There would be no surprise to that outcome to say the least. He wouldn't put it past the flamboyant reaper to perform such a tasteless damsel-in-distress stunt as to fake his own endangerment to see what kind of rile he could shake from his 'Ice King'. Such a notion only served to melt his anxiety somewhat and he continued his paused stance inches from the door. Perhaps Grell might have been crying wolf, this time accompanied by another mischievous wolf who adored playing the part of the giggling audience.

_'...the old reaper does enjoy a cynical laugh at others expenses, he would be the type of madman to play along.' _

Williams lips thinned with growing agitation. The very straightedge, very introvert reaper could only deduce so much from such men capable of toying with people's emotions, he had to admit he had been the brunt of a few jokes himself and cursed his inability to pick up when someone was mocking him for a good chuckle _directly to his face._ How unnerving...

_'If that be the case...' _William scowled and jerked the door open swiftly and slammed it before stalking hastily down the winding hallway, _'for your sake, Sutcliff, this had better be real.'_

-:-

"Ronald~ I'm hungry! You said we were getting food!"

"Yes, yes. I just need to grab something from my desk. You can wait for me can't you, my lady?" Ronald winked and poked his tongue out enticingly to the brown bob-haired girl latched at his side, earning him flushed cheeks and a wobbly smile. "I-I can...I'll starve for you."

_'Yikes.' _The look in the woman's eyes had Ronald's lip curl slightly in an awkward smile, but he was use to the crazy ones. They somehow made free time more interesting, what with their adorable daddy issues and random moments of hysterics. It was cute for how long each lasted until the young reaper grew bored again. For now he'd flash his boyish charm and swoon another lovely bird for a night of frolicsomeness, maybe even get a good shag in before the night's over. Ah, the psycho ladies were always down for the frisky stuff.

Soft stomps brought Ronald out of his musings and he glanced forward to see the hasty approaching form of William T Spears. First reaction for the blond was to raise a solute to his noggin and address his senior with a bright smirk expecting his senior to reply with a slew of rules with an adjustment of his glasses.

"Oi, Senior! Fancy seeing you—sir?" William whisked past him, giving the younger reaper no such acknowledgment. He wasn't even sure if the man was barely even aware of his surroundings. But in the instant William breezed passed Ronald he couldn't help catch the others darkened features, his jaw set tight and brows scrunched, obviously perturbed. However..._that_ was not what piqued the blond's curiosity, no, it was the _look_ in the raven haired man's eyes.

Ronald stopped dead in his tracks ignoring his brown haired company bumping into him at the sudden pause and turned to glance at the stiff back of his boss.

"Senior Spears," he inquired slowly, "is everything all right?" He watched as William stopped at the lift waiting for it to come up to the appropriate floor, suddenly turning halfway around revealing one very dark, very harsh eye on his rookie agent.

"As you were, Ronald Knox." Before Ronald could react accordingly a bell sounded as the doors to the lift opened and William stepped in and closed the doors behind him, leaving the poor young reaper in an obtuse stupor. _That_ look certainly wasn't normal, neither was the hiss that emitted from his cold boss just before disappearing from view. No tangent concerning why he was loitering around after hours with a squeeze from the 2nd floor? Not even a snide remark? Something must have _really_ bothered his superior, thinking of only few scenarios that could surface that much emotion from such a rigid man. Maybe Eric had been flaring his temper again? They certainly were having quite a bit of training scheduled so perhaps this batch of newbies were being difficult...or it could be the most usual reason; Senior Sutcliff had once again ignored all authority and performed another daring stunt for his own entertainment. Yeah, _that_ could definitely be a possibility...however...William was obviously irate and not even the Jack the Ripper case had stirred such ferocity from his frosty complex. The thought was a little disturbing...what could his mentor have possibly done to piss their boss off so severely?

A strange tug at his gut made him click his tongue in annoyance. _'Great, __now it's gonna bug me til I find out. Just hope I don't get caught in any crossfire.'_

"Ronald?" piped a quiet voice next to the blond and he exchanged glances with the girl he had momentarily forgotten all about. "Uh...yeah?"

Before she could answer they both heard a rapture of grumbles and he watched her face flush a rosy red. "I'm still hungry..."

Ronald deadpanned, tempted to inquire just what world this girl lived in but hastily decided against and instead gave her an awkward chuckle. "Uh, yeah. My bad, let's be on our way, shall we?"

-:-

_Darkness_

_Complete, utter darkness. The sounds of agonizing screams, some miserable screeches, others animalistic. If Grell had any idea where his hands were he'd have covered his ears to drown the horrible noises, however he could not justify where or what his body was in the dark obscurity around him. He felt everything, yet he could not distinguish. One thing he knew for certain was his body was on fire, wherever it was, his skin felt scorched. _

_How could darkness burn so terribly..._

_Images flashed before him, fading just as soon as they'd come. A shattered window, dust dancing within the foggy glow that emitted through, tattered mildewed curtains blowing gently from the slight breeze outside._

_And the screams, god why wouldn't they stop..._

_Another image, a hand appeared. His hand? He couldn't move it, but he watched it curl and uncurl gripping a stone surface, nails dug and clawed. He watched horrified as some of the nails began to bend at the strain, blood seeped from under the nails when they began to sickeningly detach from the skin beneath. The pain...he could feel the pain! It was his hand! Those were his sharp nails...why couldn't he control them? Why could he only watch and feel?!_

_As if knives were inserted into his jaw he felt his entirety being shifted rather forcefully, shoved back into the darkness, the screams louder now accompanied by a manic cackle. How dreadful..._

_Two eyes appeared in front of him, large round blood red saucers, the black slit within each long and thin, Hell swirling within their ruby depths. Grells heart constricted as fear overwhelmed him._

"_Are you frightened, lovely one?" a hiss to his left easily heard passed the screams, and Grell felt a tug in that direction._

_The red reaper's skin blazed unbearably. So hot...he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to endure the smoldering of his body. Was he on fire? No flame could mar his skin, he was a grim reaper...it didn't make sense._

"_Little reaper..." the voice called, dripping with crazed humor. He didn't like that voice..no where could he even attempt to search for the owner, not through the darkness..._

"_I want you to look at me, little reaper." Hot wetness touched his face, stinging anything it touched while it slid up his face, lapping at something Grell wasn't sure what._

"_I SAID LOOK AT ME!" the voice bellowed. In a moment that could be only compared to a simple blink the darkness melted __away instantly, revealing a sight in which the feminine man __almost __sorely wish he was still shrouded in blackness._

_A body imaged around the __crimson__ eyes __glaring__ down, copper hair, olive toned skin, __a hysteric grin, body covered in blood, Grell's blood, cackling as his body gyrated wildly, pumping, thrusting, tearing, rocking the reapers body against the cold ground as the vile lizard demon pounded his length into him, imbedding himself deep, deep within him. One lanky arm extended out, claws gripped around his throat, the other arm dragging its claws down his chest, shredding any clothing left and slashing the flesh apart. _

_Only did Grell realize then that the deafening screams were his, twisted with __fear, manic, desperate, pained._

"_Sing, my darling dear..." he bellowed, eyes glinting with so much sadistic pleasure as he leaned in close to Grell's face, "sing for me...as I fill you with my sin." He wrenched his hand away from the feminine man's neck to grip his scalp and in one flail motion lifted his red cranium and slammed it against the hard ground._

_At the impact of his skull against stone the scene began to fade. The familiar blackness dotted his vision from the corners._

_Into the darkness once more...the scorching, empty, arduous nothingness, leaving the broken man __with eternal pain, his screams the only sound in this bottomless world that was Hell._

**-:-**

**A/N: I hate that I love to make my favorite characters suffer. Poor Grell :( but unfortunately that's only the beginning for our favorite red head. **

**Again, thank you all for the supportive reviews and the helpful votes, I hope you all will enjoy the course of this story. I assure you, things will get much juicier and angsty, not to mention the gushy romance we all love :)**

**All comments are welcomed!**

**-Joker and the Thief.**


End file.
